Plummeting
by tmofkeri
Summary: One bad night tragedy strikes, and Enjolras tries not to plummet as the aftershocks hit [T for cursing and dark themes]
1. Chapter 1

"He'll get over it!" Enjolras yelled angrily at his friends who were now muttering in disapproval. Yes, he had sent Grantaire home after the drunk obnoxiously disturbed his speech yet again. Yes, he had been rude and had spoken words he would regret in the morning. But Grantaire would go home, pass out, and come back just as drunk the following day-this was the dance they were interlocked in. Enjolras pushed the annoying tango from his mind and forced his thoughts back on the speech he was in the middle of delivering.

_"Do not bother coming here if you are just going to be drunk"_

_"Enjolras-"_

_"I said don't winecask! I do not care for your drunken ramblings and neither does anybody else here! Go bury yourself in your damn bottle!"_

_"Enjolras-"_

_"Get out of my face you disgusting drunk. Can you not understand? Is your brain too diluted with wine? Nobody wants you here. Save yourself the embarrassment and leave. Don't bother coming back. You serve no purpose but to infuriate me. I do not care about you and your stupid bottle. Leave and don't come back. Ever." _

Grantaire staggered home alone, forcing himself to swallow the tears. Before he started drinking Enjolras never noticed him, never spoke to him. It was when he transformed into the winecask that Enjolras suddenly found him worthy to talk to-even if it was only in anger. There had been many nights when Enjolras helped him home after a particularly bad night, although he was always able to feel the bitterness radiating off the man. But not tonight. Grantaire had pushed Enjolras too far-as if he were elastic, and the drunk finally pushed hard enough that the leader snapped.

Grantaire couldn't erase the words from his mind. He couldn't erase the anger in the leader's face, the fear behind his friends' eyes as the truth was unmasked for the drunk to see. Nobody wanted him there. But that was the only place Grantaire belonged-how could he simply pack up and leave? Nobody would accept him if even Jehan-the most accepting and understanding- did not want him there. Was there anywhere else to go? There was one place.

He entered his dirty apartment and didn't bother to lock the door-let thieves steal his possessions; they needed them more than he did now. He grabbed a new bottle and downed it quickly to attempt to dilute the pain that was nearly as thick as the wine that circulated through his body.

Enjolras didn't want him. The only person Grantaire trusted in despised him in return. Grantaire had tried. He had tried as hard as he could to be whatever it was Enjolras wanted him to be. But the fact was that Grantaire would never reach that level of perfection- Enjolras didn't want him at all. No matter how hard Grantaire tried he would always remain as the filth among Enjolras' loyal followers.

This was what hurt the most-the realization that he would never obtain what he wanted the most. It was a pain that scorched his skin without relent. He felt inhuman hands squeezing his heart, attempting to squeeze the life out of him..and why not? Was there a purpose to live without Enjolras? No. There never was and there never would be.

He clenched his eyes and forced another bottle down his dry throat. It wouldn't be enough-his body had too much resistance to the wine. With unfocused eyes he maneuvered to the kitchen and grabbed the sole knife he owned.

For Enjolras. So he wouldn't bother,annoy,aggravate,_infuriate_ him anymore. Enjolras wants to be free of the winecask, and the winecask can't live without his sun. He would make a sacrifice for Apollo.

He gritted his teeth, the wine numbing most of the pain as he slid the knife hard against his wrist. _Not enough. _The slight pain that came through felt _good._ It reminded him of the pain Enjolras put him through on a daily basis. He grabbed the knife with trembling fingers and drew it from his right wrist to the elbow, the red a sign of his love for Apollo. He didn't want to die like this-they wouldn't know. He transferred the knife to his right,dominant hand and carved against his left forearm _Sorry Apol_ . The pool of red surrounding him became too much, and his head fell back in defeat as he let death overcome him.

**[Please read and review! May or may not continue]**


	2. Chapter 2

The first day Grantaire didn't show Enjolras didn't care. Perhaps he was slightly pleased-he was able to talk for once without being interrupted. He recognized by now that he had stepped out of line, and was ready to admit the bitter apology when the drunk returned tomorrow.

The second day Grantaire still didn't show, and nobody had had any contact with him. Enjolras was annoyed at this stunt, clearly he was trying to make Enjolras feel guilty. It wouldn't work. Let the winecask pout all he wanted-Enjolras wasn't going to cave.

On the third day a timid hand raised while Enjolras was talking.

"Yes?" Enjolras sighed, annoyed.

"Where is Grantaire? Have you visited him yet to apologize?" Jehan Prouvaire asked nervously.

"He is probably drunk and sulking in his home. And no. I will not go apologize. When he stops this ridiculousness and returns I will apologize. But I will not stoop to his level and wait on him." Enjolras replied.

"You were pretty rough on him…" Courfeyrac offered up.

"Enough" Combeferre interrupted, "Continue with your speech Enjolras." And Enjolras continued speaking about the terrible conditions.

"I have a bad feeling about this" Jehan said quietly to Courfeyrac, who nodded in response.

"We'll go check on him after the meeting."

The two young men walked in silence, neither entirely prepared for what they would find. The landlady threw a fit when they entered to see Grantaire, claiming he owed rent and she hadn't seen him the past few days. Jehan knocked on the door, but was only greeted with an eternal silence. He was prepared to leave, but Courfeyrac tried the door and found it unlocked- an unusual behavior, especially for the area he lived in. Courfeyrac walked in first, calling out, "Grantaire?" There was no response.

As soon as he entered the kitchen he stumbled to the ground, simultaneously wanting to vomit and cry. "Courf?" called Jehan, hearing his friend fall and coming up behind him, only to meet a similar fate. He immediately fell to the ground, grabbing onto Courfeyrac and crying, "I-is he..?" Courfeyrac couldn't speak, so he nodded- yes, it was inevitable. Their friend was gone. He was surrounded by gallons of his own blood, with illegible markings up his arms. Courfeyrac was too stunned to cry, and simply gazed at Grantaire.

"Jehan" Courfeyrac said calmly to his friend, "Please go fetch Enjolras. Don't tell him..what happened. Just tell him he needs to come immediately." He paused then added, "Bring Combeferre too." Jehan protested slightly but finally rose and ran back to the café.

Jehan was out of breath by the time he reached the café, but slowing down was not an option. Surely this qualified as an emergency. "Enjolras" the poet panted as he entered the room, his eyes red from the tears that mixed with sweat during his run.

"I-its Grantaire. You n-need to get to his apartment right n-now. Bring C-combeferre" Jehan stuttered as he attempted not to cry. But his will didn't remain strong, and he found himself clutching his leader and sobbing. Enjolras looked down with disdain at the emotional poet.

"Has he drunk himself into a coma? I haven't time to waste on him Jehan-I'm quite busy. Whatever it is isn't important."

"H-he tried to kill himself"

Courfeyrac gradually made his way closer to Grantaire, and tilted the fallen man's up. His eyes were closed, his face pale and cold with eyes that still burned red from crying. Courfeyrac desperately grabbed his wrist, and finally let tears fall when he found it still.

He then glanced down, at the pool of red surrounding his feet and decided to clean it before the others arrived- surely they wouldn't want to see it. He scrubbed the floor as clean as he could before turning back to his dead friend. He studied the wounds more closely-his right arm had one straight line carved with an artist's precision. But the other arm had small incisions-wait- they were letters. _SO_ were the only letters visible, the rest shrouded in blood. Courfeyrac slowly took his rag and wiped away the cover from his arm. He wished he hadn't. _Sorry Apol_ was as far as Grantaire had gotten. Courfeyrac knew what it meant. He cursed himself for it. Somebody should have gone after the drunk, they all knew how much Enjolras meant to Grantaire. But none of them had chased him when his Apollo wounded him. And now it was too late.

[Please read and review!Let me know what you think so far!]


	3. Chapter 3

Enjolras entered the kitchen slowly, peering down at the body.

"Is he…?" he glanced at Courfeyrac, who nodded in response. Enjolras sighed and stepped closer, crouching in front of the dead man.

"I suppose he won't be a nuisance anymore then." Enjolras stated dryly, aware of the glares radiating his back from Jehan. Courfeyrac laid a gentle hand on the poet and pulled him out of the room before he had a breakdown again. Combeferre remained standing above Enjolras. He saw the flicker in his eyes as he read Grantaire's arm. He heard the slight, sharp inhalation of breath. He saw the statue shake slightly, ever so slightly, that had anyone else been in the room it would have gone unnoticed. But Combeferre knew, he always knew with Enjolras. Enjolras remained in front of the cynic for only a minute before standing with his head held high again.

"Take care of it. I have more important things to do than waste my time here" Enjolras spat and turned to leave. He was stopped momentarily by Combeferre's concerned hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off.

"Fine" Combeferre agreed, although he knew Enjolras was in pain. "Go home. Don't go back to the Musain until I am able to join you. I will stop by later."

Enolras did not have more important things to do, but he couldn't let his friends know that. He couldn't stay in that apartment filled with scents of death and Grantaire, a duo cologne that shouldn't be allowed to exist. He couldn't let his friends know. He couldn't let them see the hurt, the guilt, the sadness pressing down on him with crushing weight. He is marble, and marble does not crack. He wouldn't let them see-he couldn't.

It was Grantaire that had claimed him to be made of marble. As marble he would remain, for Grantaire.

Enjolras had his emotions set by the time he reached the café. It was against Combeferre's orders, but his friends had the right to know. The amis had gathered quickly with whisperings of an unknown peril befallen to Grantaire. As he entered he made eye contact with each of the men gathered out of respect. But as he reached Eponine his gaze fell-Grantaire's closest friend and drinking buddy. She had not been present a few nights before, but surely word had gotten around to her by now about the outburst. She would be the hardest to deal with it.

"What is it?" she demanded, completely aware of his faltering gaze when he reached her.

Enjolras slowly picked his head up and held it straight, meeting her challenging eyes.

"Grantaire is dead." He spoke firmly, refusing to allow his voice to quiver or soften. He wouldn't let his emotions win.

"How?" Eponine screamed, a myriad of emotions crossing her face: grief, anger, confusion, grief.

"He killed himself" he held her gaze, the rest of the café fading besides the two of them.

"It's your fault!" she screamed, running at him, "You told him we didn't want him! I hate you!" her fists flew through the air at nothing as Bahorel restrained her from attacking Enjolras. "I'll kill you! It's your fault!" she sobbed, still fighting to get at Enjolras.

"It was a misunderstanding." Enjolras said, holding the marble mask steady. "Release her Bahorel. Let her be" Enjolras demanded, and Bahorel obeyed. Eponine threw one last glare at him before racing out of the café, surely to Grantaire's apartment.

**[Next update wont be until middle of next week(probably). Thanks for reading, please review!]**


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